MIDNIGHT has stol'n upon me! sound is none, Save when light, tinkling cinders, one by one, Fall from my fire; or its low, fluttering blaze. A faint and fitful noise at times betrays; Or distant baying of the watch-dog, caught At intervals. It is the hour of thought; Canst thou then marvel, now that thought is free, Memory should wake, and Fancy fly to thee?— That she should paint thee, wrapp'd in peaceful sleep? While round thy happy pillow spirits keep Their post unseen: those watchers of the night, Who, o'er the innocent, with fond delight Stand centinels, and, by their guardian power, Preserve from evil virtue's slumbering hour. Calm, healthful, and refreshing be thy rest! And be thy dreams as blissful, as e'er blest, In Fancy's sweetest, purest, loveliest mood, The hours of stillness and of solitude! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE CHILD'S BEING by HAYDEN CARRUTH OVID, OLD BUDDY, I WOULD DISCOURSE WITH YOU A WHILE by HAYDEN CARRUTH FUGUE FOR A DROWNED GIRL by JAMES GALVIN WHAT I'VE BELIEVED IN by JAMES GALVIN IN QUEST by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MEMORY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |